


Finding Theta

by Gobsmacked_limbic



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Experiments, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, dads on revenge, don't you dare touch North's boy!, ex freelancers, graphic violence is a bit strong, i'm just being careful, norkington - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gobsmacked_limbic/pseuds/Gobsmacked_limbic
Summary: No one hurt's Norkington's boy. No one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is apparently what happens when I see Finding Nemo the Musical

The bedroom looked especially dark and sinister, what with the only light source being that from the hallway. There was just enough brightness to show the transfer stickers that were plastered along the wall, and barely enough that he could make out the stone cold stare of the teddy bears on the bed.

The bedroom was a typical child’s sanctuary.

From a distant room he could hear the phone ringing, and a voice muffled by walls answered almost immediately. Heavy footsteps echoed through the bare hall, a figure was making their way towards him. 

“North…” He turned to see York silhouetted in the doorway, one hand was clinging to the doorframe while the other held onto the cell phone. “It’s Flowers, we found them…” The action figure that North had been clinging to fell onto the vacant bed, and he walked towards his lover, saying nothing. York moved out of the way to let him passed, and North could vaguely hear his partner continuing his talk on the phone as he followed the elder. “No, don’t take action unless you have to, just monitor. We’re just getting Washington.”

The clocking sound of a gun could be heard as the garage door opened, exposing Wash checking North’s beloved rifle, shooting the target in front of him to make sure it was ready for what was ahead. The small blonde looked towards them with a fearful and hopeful look in his eyes. His appearance was a wreck, like he hadn’t slept in days, but if the perfect shot on the target as any indication, lack of sleep hadn’t diminished his aim.

The pale twenty nine year old examined his two partners, silently beginning for any information. North still bit his tongue, instead he stretched his hand out and gave his youngest lover a nod. A wave of relief and nausea swept over the weapons expert who took a brief moment to compose himself. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath to steady his racing heart, and then tossed the loaded gun towards his partner. North caught the firearm, not even bothering to examine it as he had absolute faith in his partner’s upkeep.

Washington flung an ammo bag over his shoulder, securing his knives as York slipped a handgun underneath the hem of his trousers, before lifting up his trusty shotgun. 

“Yeah… yeah… thanks Flowers…” He glanced up to his partners, phone still held to his ear. “We’re on our way.”

*

A silver minivan was far from conspicuous, but with the final battle looming ahead, the three no longer cared how this went down. If they had to take their enemies out in a blaze of glory, or through underhanded tactics, they no longer cared. The only one who spoke the entire journey was York, although his words were mainly instructions on how to get to their destination. It was typical of York, his mouth was as much a coping mechanism now as it had been even back in the day. York had always been the one to keep communications lit, chattering his teams ear off even in the heat of battle.

Washington sat in the back, surrounded by weapons and gazing out the window at the city landscape that whirred by. Tears ran along his cheeks as he tried to get the fear out before they got there. He didn’t want to be the weak one, the one who compromised everything. This wasn’t a simple _retrieve the objective_ mission, this time personal couldn’t even begin to cover just how much this meant to all of them, and if he was feeling so broken up about it, he couldn’t fathom how North was managing to hold up. His lover hadn’t spoken aside from the rare word since the kidnapping, but his eyes were constantly red, meaning he was either holding back all his tears, or only allowing himself to cry when his lovers weren’t around.

The city backdrop became sparse as they drove deeper into the countryside. Buildings became flatlands, and the red rock appeared black under the light of the moon.

In the distance the warehouse came into view, it wasn’t hidden by foliage or rocks, but out in the open which meant no matter what direction they came from they’d be seen. York looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with his confused partner in the back and he indicated to the large gym bag.

“Keep a hold of that…”

Six guards were stationed out front of the warehouse. One was resting against the post of the entrance, two were pacing and the other three were in the middle of a perimeter check. It was painfully quiet, and the male leaning against the door was getting a little too relaxed, and a little too antsy. His trigger finger was dying for some action, but he was aware he was being ridiculous, so far this had been the cushiest gig that the mercenary had been a part of.

To his right someone let out a yell, and from the road some hundreds of yards away a vehicle suddenly turned to face them. It barrelled towards the group, the family car bumping over the rocky terrain beneath it. It sped straight towards the building, prompting yelling from the doors guard to stand in formation.

His five associates rushed over, guns ready as they shot. The windshield was penetrated, then shattered by the following bullets but it continued to speed in their direction, jolting and jerking, bumping along the sharp stones beneath the tires. One burst, but whoever was inside was persistent, and as the vehicle drew closer, the formation fell apart. All six soldiers rushed to the side in an attempt to protect themselves, one being clipped as the van almost suddenly changed direction, veering to the side and crashing against the garage that lay next to the warehouse.

The remaining five guns-for-hire rushed towards the vehicle, weapons ready.

“Stand down! Come out with your hands raised!” The male in front cried out, giving the driver a moment but no one emerged. A glance and head nod was exchanged between the combatants and one darted forward, opening the door and jumping back, gun ready to shoot.

But there was no one there. 

Nothing but a weight pressed down on the gas.

“What the-oomph!” Four of the men turned around at the sound from behind, turning just in time to see their comrade being bent over, face colliding with a stranger’s knee. The blonde male straightened as the unconscious guard tumbled to the ground and he immediately stretched out, gripping onto one of the guns and jerking it from one of their grip. Before the others even had a moment to shoot, the intruder jammed the butt of the weapon he was holding against one of the attackers necks so hard that he collapsed.

One of the guards opened his mouth to cry out, shaking hands rising the shotgun but suddenly he felt a pair of hands reach from behind. A palm flattened over his mouth, muffling him, while the other held onto his wrist, lowering his hand with the gun just as he shot. The figure’s eyes widened as pain exploded in his foot, blood seeping from the new wound that he had inflicted. His grip grew loose, gun falling to the ground and suddenly everything went black as something hit the back of his head.

One by one the blonde and brunette tag team took out the guards, York only noticing one crawling away at the very last moment. The male couldn’t stand, his hip had to be dislocated from where the car impacted him with the amount of pain he was in. He tried to keep his movements small, and his grunts of pain minimal but suddenly two feet appeared before him. The floored guard glanced up, seeing a twistedly grinning brunette and a sombre young blonde. The smiling male leaned down, a finger pressed to his lips in a hushing motion, then he spoke.

“This is going to hurt…”

Inside the remaining guards reacted as quickly as they could, having heard the slam of a car outside. However by the time they left the building, their comrades were already out cold. Behind them, the entrance to the warehouse shut and was bolted from inside, and they spun around to see the two responsible for the unconscious bodies surrounding them. York still wore his perverse smile, ready to put these bastards in their place finally, while Washington just stood with his tired eyes examining the pack.

There were a lot of them, over twenty which corresponded with Florida’s estimation. He heard the shotgun clock beside him and glanced to see his partner get into position before the brunette quickly stole a kiss.

“For good luck.” He managed to explain, just as the first shot was fired. It just about missed Washington’s head, prompting the two to split. Wash ran to the left and York to the right, the elder kneecapped two of the men with his first two, expert shots.

Washington was cornered by a large male with burns along his face and what could only be a flamethrower by his side. His grin was even more sadistic than York’s as he saw the small knife in the blonde’s hand.

“I think you’re out of your dep-ARGH!” He screamed in pain as the younger took advantage, darting forward and stabbing the knife into his leg, twisting it. Blood stained the huge male’s trousers as he hissed, Washington quickly darting away to a distance as his hand fished the handgun from his holster. Gunshots rang in his ears as he retaliated against those attacking him, and from the corner of his eye he could see York still fending for himself.

He could only hope North was doing as well.

Inside the building was practically deserted, what with a majority of the armed forces now outside dealing with his two boyfriends. Ex-Agent North Dakota breezed through the first few rooms of the large warehouse. They had little to interest him, just some boxes reading Charon Industries that once upon his time may have been his objective, but now they just made up the background.

He knew he was heading the right way when suddenly two lazy guards perked up having noticed him. One withdrew their weapon, pointing it towards the blonde, while the other gazed at him in confusion, taking in not just one, but the two rifles he slipped from his back holsters.

“Stand down!” One of them recommended, but North wasn’t listening.

 _Thwip!_

That was all the sound the silenced rifle made before the one pointing the gun at him fell to his knees, a hold penetrating his skull. He collapsed down on the ground, face first as the pool of blood seeped onto the concrete. The other one gazed to him in horror, eyes wide.

“Billy! Y-you bastard!” Trembling hands gripped onto his gun as he tried to retaliate but one shot from North caused the weapon to fly into the air, while the second hit him in the chest. His eyes widened, all light disappearing from them before he joined his companion on the floor.

North stood over their bodies without a second glance, without a single fleeting though as to how he had killed someone’s brother, father or son. The door they had been protecting opened with relative ease and suddenly the entire atmosphere changed.

Rather than huge store rooms filled with crates, he found himself in a laboratory of sorts. Wires lined the walls, frayed cables sparking as power was directed to some huge machine in the centre of the room. The impressive contraption only held his attention for less than a moment however, as the sight that really attracted North was the four men in white coats circling a surgical table, and the squirming child that laid upon it.

“Theta!” He finally cried out, voice cracking as the child, and his four captors spun to face him.

“W-what?” One spluttered. “Guards!” In a moment, North had darted across the floor and slammed the butt of one of his riffles against the man’s face. The intellectual clearly wasn’t a fighter, as his eyes widened and he cried out in pain. A second tried to pull away but North grabbed him and slammed the heel of his hand underneath his chin, knocking him to the ground. The third, then the fourth fell, their bodies a bloodied mess, but each of them was breathing.

“P-Pop?” The broken voice was louder than any whirring fan or buzzing mechanism in the room and the pale, bloodied and exhausted North turned to see Theta strapped to the surgical table. He was lying on his stomach, with his head turned so he could see his father. The child’s eyes were tear filled, and his skin was blotchy. The back of his neck was a bloodied mess and he was shaking. “Papa… is that….”

“I’m here.” Tears began to roll down North’s cheeks as his fingers ran through the small child’s hair. He could feel the quivering breaths escaping his kid as he leaned down and kissed his head. “Theta I’m here, it’s over… it’s over…” His bayonet made quick work of the straps and his large arms slipped underneath the seven year old, hoisting him into his arms. The child whimpered in pain at the movements but he wound his arms around his father’s neck.

The bruised youngster buried his face against his neck, the familiar scent of his father, mixed with gunpowder was overwhelming and suddenly it hit him. This was real. His fantasies of his Pop coming and saving him never had vivid smells this way.

Tiny fingers wound into the fabric of his stained shirt and suddenly North’s neck grew wet as the small child began to cry, howling and sobbing as he clung to his Pop as if his life depended on it.

“You’re here! Y-y-you... you’re here!” His body was shuddering with sobs and cries, all of which were painful as the reality of this whole situation came crashing down on him.

The child was in so much pain, he had been so scared, and even if it all happened in less than twenty-four hours, it felt like weeks to Theta. He had almost forgotten how large his father’s arms were, and how warm he felt as he held him.

“North? North are yo… Theta!” Two pairs of footsteps could be heard rushing from the doorway, and North spun to see his partners. Theta heard them, and he wanted them close but he couldn’t bring himself to tear any body part away from his Pop. His face was pressed to his neck still, hands clinging to him as if afraid any weakness in his grip would tear the man away from him again. York’s heart stopped in his chest at North’s expression. Pure sorrow filled his eyes, his pale cheeks were red and soaked with tears and it appeared the relief of the entire situation hadn’t settled in just yet, as instead he finally processed all the emotions that the last twenty four hours had provoked, all of them crashing down on him at once.

Wash physically recoiled at the sight of the back of Theta’s neck, his stomach lurching at the bloodied mess those bastards had created. York didn’t shrink away, instead he stood forward, hand resting on Theta’s back lightly as his lips brushed that soft blonde hair.

“Theta… oh thank god!” Was all he could manage before glancing to North whose eyes were puffed out, nose shining and he hiccupped passed the tears that choked him. Suddenly York’s lips were on his, kissing him, reassuring him. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He reassured his partner, whispering against his mouth, and closing his eyes as the tears of relief began to form. “He’s back… he’s here with us.”

Theta finally managed to lift his head and open his eyes, just enough to peek over his Pop’s shoulder where Wash had moved. The hazel eyes softened, gazing into Theta’s bright blue and he smiled, twenty-four hours of fear slightly lessening its grip on the previous weapons expert.

“Hey buddy…” His voice cracked as he watched the young boy’s eyes well up with tears once more.

“Papi…” His voice was muffled against his Pop’s shoulder. Wash’s heart clenched in his chest. Even though he had been called by that name mere hours ago, suddenly that one word meant everything to him. He saw his child’s hand twitch and tears cascaded down his cheeks as his fingers lightly brushed against his bruised knuckles.

“It’s me.” He whispered as Theta managed to loosen his grip on North’s clothing just enough so Wash could slip his hand beneath and hold it. He was so cold, his hands were shivering, and while he wasn’t okay, he was alive. Wash leaned closer, pressing his forehead against Theta’s and closing his eyes, and from behind the young boy could feel York’s arms embracing both him and his Pop. They stood between unconscious bodies as they tried to wrap their heads around what the last twenty four hours had put them through.

“Well… isn’t this nice?” Theta let out a pitiful cry, one hand tightened around Wash’s while the other tugged at the fabric of North’s t-shirt. York could feel him tense and suddenly the child began to plead, voice soft.

“Papa please.” He begged North, shivering. “Papa don’t let him hurt me.”

Those words were all it took and suddenly three guns were pointing towards a figure that appeared in the far corner of the room. Staring down the barrel of a shotgun, handgun and rifle may have rattled anyone else, but not Malcolm Hargrove.

“Calm down won’t you boys? I’m unarmed.” The elder man displayed his hands as he walked over, rather slowly closing the gap between them. Theta was clawing at his parental figures back, his sobbing was louder now.

“Papa I wanna go home!” He tried to yell, but it was just a pitiful cry that hurt to hear all the more.

“Give me one solid reason I shouldn’t put a bullet through your skull right now?” York growled, glaring to the man before him. The smile that was plastered on his wrinkled face infuriated the brunette who clocked his gun, aiming and…

“York.” Mismatched eyes turned to face his lover as he held off pulling the trigger. North wasn’t even looking to him, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the chairman. “Take Theta.”

“What?”

“Papa no!” Theta cried over York’s exclamation, releasing Wash’s hand so he could cling to the man. North’s heart was racing so hard that his son could feel it, and he didn’t want to let go of the child any more than Theta did, but he had to. He lowered his rifle, just giving York a pleading look as his lover nodded.

Hands slipped underneath Theta’s arms from behind and he screamed, loud and piercing, fighting off the brunette as he tried to keep his Pop close. He didn’t care about bruises or cuts, all he wanted was his father who would never let anything happen to him. Not that any of them would. His connection to North was just deeper, like they were trying to tear a part of the very child’s being away as Wash pride his hands from around North’s neck and York hoisted him into his arms, the shotgun now on the floor.

“No! No Daddy no, I-I want my Papa please!” He pleaded with York who hushed him, stroked his hair and kissed his temple. It didn’t help, the child twisted and screamed, and his hand reached out for North. Blood was visible underneath his cracked nails, his voice was raspy and tears flooded from his eyes. “PAPA NO! PAPA! PAPAAA PLEASE!” North had to close his eyes, unable to handle the appearance of his child screaming for him. He could still hear him, and every word stabbed something deep down, spreading the pain that had filled his being since their child was snatched from them. His hand gripped the rifle tighter.

“York.” His tone was warning, but more than that, it was pleading. Theta’s wretched sobbing shook North to his core as York brought him away, widening the distance between father and son. Theta pleaded with his Dad to let him go, his teary eyes as he screamed desperately for his Pop to stay with him. Wash suddenly appeared behind him and hushed him, his hands cupping his face as he reassured their child that he’d be okay.

“Papi no I want… I want my Pop! Let me go Dad! Let me go!” He screamed and begged, thrashing his entire body, trying to see his parental figure once more as they left him with the evil man. What if he never saw him again? What if the bald guy hurt him like he let those men in white coats hurt Theta? “PAPA!!”

**Slam!**

The door shut behind the two men and child, leaving only Malcolm and North alone in the laboratory.

“I suppose you want to know what I wanted with your boy?” The droll tone of his voice was sickening but North didn’t mention it, or even dignify him with a response. His narrow grey eyes just followed the slowly pacing man who was hesitating to continue, waiting for a reply. When none came, he simply chuckled and made his way to the slab where Theta had been held. He ran a finger along it. “The others hid theirs well… at times I wondered if the rumours were true. Maybe they had just been decommissioned, but then… oh your boy… does he know?”

No words escaped the blonde, but the way in which his brow creased told far too much. Hargrove stared towards him, examining and taking what information he could gather from his expression.

“Oh he doesn’t? So that wasn’t impressive acting… well… they must have liked you Agent North… I believe it’s Dakota is it not?” North fought the urge to tense, or give any indication to his answer, but the elder mans twisted grin told him there was no more to give away. “Yes… Agent North Dakota, or Albrecht Solberg. Date of birth April twenty-fourth, born to Giselle and Kasper Solberg, twin sister Emiline, blood type O negative which admittedly is interesting since Emiline is B positive… oh… I know _all_ about you.” Every word he spoke was planned, his tone of voice was rapid when listing off his facts but slowed near the end, and once finished his lips returned to that smile. North fought to keep his expression neutral. “You’re considerably less chatty than your… _friend_.”

“I have little to nothing to say to you.” He finally spoke, his low voice somehow managing to carry across the room over the loudly sparking wires that lined the walls.

“I’m sure that is true, after all I’m sure you wish nothing more than to get back to your… son…” He was now leaning against the steel table, hands holding onto the sides as he examined North. The blonde had his suspicions that while the elder tried to look calm, it really was that his age was catching up with him. Even his tone was raspier as he struggled to breathe. “At least… he’s someone’s son… you are a selfish man. You possibly ruined a family, and stopped the progression of science…”He indicated around him. “All because you wanted to play house.”

“ _My_ son… is not your experiment.” North didn’t bother to sound threatening anymore, at this point it was just a conversation. Theta was safe in the car, and he had Malcolm Hargrove all to himself. The chairman sighed and once more his eyes scanned his masterpiece that surrounded him.

“You have no idea… the capability that little AI has…”Malcolm’s steely grey eyes met Norths. There was no glimmer in the blondes gaze, it was stone cold like the button eyes that stared to him back in Theta’s room. He watched Malcolm tilt his head and the man stroked his chin, letting out a worn breath. “Why are we putting this off son? You think I haven’t noticed the way you’re still holding that gun?” North raised up his arm, examining the rifle that accompanied him, his second was discarded somewhere on the floor.

“Oh this?” He stretched out to aim, no longer needing Theta inside his head to pull off the perfect shot. He lined it up just right, he could snipe Hargrove right between the eyes and he could tell from the males expression that was what he expected. Malcolm closed his eyes, a look close to relief washed over him as he awaited the embrace of…

_Thwip._

“ARGH!” All it took was a _slip_ of the hand and suddenly the man was screaming in anguish. Every joint cracked as he collapsed to his knees, then his side, trembling, blotchy hands holding the bloodied mess that was his crotch. He flailed, not unlike a fish and North sauntered over, enjoying every single whimper and squawk that escaped the man. His own steps still managed to echo above the cries, every slow step growing louder the closer he got. Below him the aged male looked up, his face contorted in pain and he opened his mouth. “Argh… ugh… why?” He managed.

“This…” North used the rifle to indicate to the male crumbled by his feet. “Is but a fraction of the pain you put my boy through… my family through…” He was gasping, gagging on the pained moans that escaped him as he curled up tighter into a ball. He was no longer trembling, more convulsing with the intense pain that coursed from his groin.

Teary, bulging eyes gazed up to the stone faced male towering over him, and Malcolm Hargrove’s lip quivered as he glared upwards.

“You… b-bastard…” He choked, groaning as even speaking hurt his body. “Why not… just…. Ugh… k-kill me?” He didn’t see the way North’s eyes darted to the door, how he scanned the unconscious bodies along the ground or how his face scrunched up in disgust when he finally looked back to the chairman.

“Why not…”

_Thwip._

*

Outside, Theta’s tears still spilled but his cries were softer now, more tired, as if the last twenty four hours had caught up with him. He buried his face against his Dad’s neck and shivered in his arms as he sobbed softly. Wash had managed to turn on the bashed up minivan and York was sitting in the back seat, holding onto the boy in his grasp. He could feel him shiver, but he knew he was close to sleep.

The child was too afraid however. He didn’t want to close his eyes and remember the cold slab beneath him, the pain in the back of his neck, or the strange men bickering over where his _core_ was.

“North!” Theta could hear his Papi call out to his Pop, despite the blanket of tiredness that had covered him just minutes ago. He tensed and sat up, and this time York didn’t stop him. His Dad did make sure he didn’t get off his lap however, not wanting their kid to exhaust himself. Theta twisted on his Dad’s lap, watching as North approached, his hands empty and his expression exhausted.

It didn’t stop the genuine smile from taking over the elder males face as his son came into view. Theta’s eyes welled up again and he stretched out as North climbed into the back of the seat. Thankfully his Dad didn’t stop him from crawling to his Pop. The elder blonde held his child against his chest and buried his face against his blood matted hair.

“My boy…” He whispered, closing his own dampening eyes as he held the kid gently against his chest. “No one’s ever going to harm you again… we swear…” York placed a kiss gently to the boy’s cheek, then to Norths before he slipped out of the back. Wash let him take his position in the driver’s seat and soon they were driving away from the warehouse. Theta was resting on his Pop’s lap, head pressed against the adults chest so he could hear that reassuring heartbeat.

“I wanna go home…” He whispered, closing his eyes and burying his face against his fathers stained shirt. North hushed him and gently kissed his head.

“I know buddy… but we gotta go see Doctor Grey, she’s gonna take care of you.” The back of Theta’s neck was scabbing, but blood still stained it, and there was no way a gash like that couldn’t still hurt his boy.

Washington rested his head against the window, occasionally checking the rear view mirror to see the father and son in the back, reunited. To his left, York pulled out his cell and sandwiched it between his ear and shoulder as he waited on someone to answer.

“Hey Butch? Yeah… we got it man… you know what to do.” Wash didn’t have to look for it, there was no missing the almost sudden inferno that appeared in the distance. The fire engulfed the entire building and surrounding area at an alarming speed, lighting up the sky as it roared.

Theta tilted his head, wondering what the sudden brightness in the distance was but North pulled him back against his chest and hushed him, not wanting his kid to see.

“Yeah… yeah man we owe you… no trust us we do… thanks.” York hung up, dropping his cell in the space between his and the driver’s seat. Work let out a tut, earning a glance from the driver. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be on your phone.” He informed his lover, glancing once more to the rear view mirror and the view of Theta and his Pop curled up in the back, a small, tired but genuine smile crossed Wash’s lips. “There’s a kid in the car…”


End file.
